“I do not know exactly what she said to you,” he said, “but she was lying. You are beautiful.”
My eyes widened as he spoke the words. How could he know what I was thinking? I looked down and bit my lip, knowing I was undoubtedly red in the face again and having no idea how to respond to him. Princess Whitney had always made it clear to me I was nothing but plain and that I should consider it a blessing. Since none of the knights would ever want me, I would not end up as Shelly had—used and worthless.
Branford’s fingers brushed under my chin, and he tilted my head up to look at him.
“You are,” he whispered.
“Should I not put on my nightdress?” I asked, wanting to divert his thoughts from this topic. My stomach already felt like it was rife with dancing jesters.
“I don’t think there would be much point in the act, my wife,” Branford said with a sly grin. “I could help you out of the dress you are wearing now, if you like.”
He bent at the knees to bring himself down to my eye level. With his fingertips poised on the edge of my jaw, he tilted his head to one side and looked at me.
“You are truly magnificent to look upon, my wife,” he said quietly. “I have never learned the flowery words of bards, but the vision of you today in the meadow—with your soft, beautiful skin in the sunlight—was such a glorious sight, I might have to learn some of those words so I can express myself adequately.”
I felt heat climb back into my cheeks, and Branford brushed his thumb over my cheekbone.
“Lovely,” he whispered as he stood up again. I watched him moisten his lips with the tip of his tongue, and I looked down at the floor. I heard him take a deep breath, which he let out slowly before speaking again. “You are sure you want this, Alexandra? I will not turn you away if you wish to wait.”
Looking up into his bright green eyes, I knew he meant what he said. I thought about what we were about to do and wondered if I was ready for this. I remembered that every time he had touched me—save that one, horrible moment when he dragged me from the dining room—he had been gentle. Indeed, his hands had brought forth feelings in my body I did not know I could even experience. Twice he had made me feel such wonders, and now that I knew what the sensations he craved for himself were, I regretted that he had not felt them when I did. I wanted to feel like that again, and I wanted Branford to feel the same way. He said he would only feel that way when he was inside of me, and even though thoughts of Shelly still lingered in my head, Branford was not Sir Remy. He hadn’t forced me when I was not ready, and he was clearly not going to force me now.
“You can tell me no, Alexandra,” he said quietly. “I will not be angry with you. I want to wait until you want me, too.”
I stood up slowly, and Branford took a step back from me. When I looked up to his eyes, I could see his apprehension and uncertainty and found it ironic. The idea that he, the deflowerer of a dozen princesses, would feel nervous with me seemed ridiculous. I reclaimed the space between us, stepping close to him and rising up on my toes as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I watched him run his tongue quickly over his lips again before I reached up high enough to kiss him.
His lips were soft and warm against mine, and he moved them slowly, molding them around my mouth and sucking my lower lip gently between his. I turned my head to the side, kissing him from another angle as I felt his hand wrap around my back and hold me close to his body. The fingers of his other hand cupped my face for a moment before he released me.
“I do want you,” I said as blood rose to my cheeks. With his hand, he brushed under the edge of my jaw, tilting my face back up to his. His eyes were wide, and he glanced rapidly between mine, seeking confirmation that I meant what I said. I nodded and tried to hold his gaze, but his eyes were so intense, so beautiful, I found it hard to keep looking at them. My heart was still pounding in my chest, making it difficult to breathe deeply as he kept his eyes focused on mine until he nodded almost imperceptibly, perhaps satisfied with what he saw.
“Thank you, God,” Branford mumbled as his hands reached into my hair and his mouth descended on me again. I felt his tongue pressing against my lips, and I opened my mouth to him. As he touched and tasted me with his tongue, he slid his hands down my sides to my waist and pulled my body closer to his. I could feel him—hard, long, and wanting—pushed firmly against my stomach. I gasped into his mouth, and he pulled back from me. “I have wanted you so much. It has been so difficult to hold back, but I want you to want this. I need you to want me.”
“I do,” I repeated. “I want to be yours…truly yours.”
He dropped his hands from my face and slowly reached up to his neck, releasing the ties around the top of his shirt and slowly bringing it over his head. He dropped it to his feet without ceremony, and I looked upon his bare chest. My hand twitched, wanting to touch him but still unsure. He saw my hesitancy, took my hand in his, and placed it over his heart. I could feel it beating rapidly, matching the pace of my own. He released my hand, and I let myself feel his skin, running my fingers over the lines surrounding the strong muscles of his chest and shoulders. The outlines danced in the pale candlelight, and I let my finger trace the shadows I found there. His skin shuddered under my touch, and I looked up to find him smiling at me.
As my hands touched his chest and stomach, he reached over to unlace the top of my dress, leisurely pulling the laces from their holes until it was loose around me. He gripped the edge of my skirts and pulled the whole thing over my head, leaving me completely bare except for my lower undergarment. The dress joined his shirt on the floor, and he lowered himself down to the ground, looking up at me as he lifted each of my feet to remove my shoes as I held his shoulders for balance. His hands traveled up the outside of my legs, reaching the top of the undergarment and then pulling it slowly down. I stepped out of it and stood bare before him.
“So beautiful,” he whispered as his eyes moved over me. He stood again, kissed my mouth, and then loosened his trousers to let them drop around his ankles. I allowed myself the briefest of glances downward, seeing how his body was responding to my naked
ness and feeling strangely proud that I could evoke such a response from him. Again I wondered how something so large could fit inside of me and felt my breath catch in my throat at the thought. He touched my jaw again before he bent down to remove his boots, and then he kicked everything off to the side. He took my hands in his and guided me backwards to the bed.
He lay me on my back, my head resting on the pile of pillows at the top of the bed, and crawled over me. He placed his mouth on my shoulder, making a trail of light kisses from there to my neck as his hands moved up my sides. I felt his thumbs brush the sides of my breasts and felt his hardness pressing against my thigh.
He cupped my breasts with both hands, lifting them higher as he looked down at them hungrily. He captured first one and then the other with his mouth. I gasped at the sensation as he sucked my nipples between his lips, running his warm tongue over them. He released them, kissed the top of both mounds before finding my lips with his. He kissed me over and over, his tongue running along mine until I was gasping for air and the strange sensation—the feeling of wanting to be touched—began to build between my legs. I shifted under him, and he smiled down at me.
“Do you want my touch?” he asked playfully. He caressed my skin, running his fingers from my breast to my stomach, then around my hip, and down the outside of my leg. He watched his hand as he ran it over the top of my knee and then slowly up the inside of my thigh, pushing my legs apart so he could reach me. I felt the brush of his long fingers over my most sensitive flesh. They slid against my folds, parting them and stroking slowly and deliberately as I groaned softly into my own hand. Branford shook his head and took my hand away from my mouth, placing it next to my head.
“I want to hear you,” he whispered into my ear as he moved my hand above my head. “The sounds you make are so beautiful, and they make me hunger for you.”
I was glad I wasn’t looking into his eyes when I thought about what he meant and felt his stiffened flesh rub against my thigh again. He found my opening with his fingers, teasing it briefly before pushing inside just a little ways. He found the swollen nub at the top with his thumb and began to slowly push against it. With his other hand, he pushed against the inside of my thigh, effectively placing me on display for him as he looked down. He looked for only a moment before turning his gaze to focus on my face. He examined me briefly until he seemed to be distracted by the sight of my breasts and turned his attention toward them—first with his free hand and then with his mouth. I grasped his shoulder and he looked up, his eyes sparkling.
He ran his tongue first over one nipple, then the other, while his thumb and fingers continued touching between my legs and making my hips rise up of their own accord. Branford’s fingers dipped farther inside of me, and I felt them curl up as I stiffened and cried out in short, panting breaths. His fingers retreated quickly, leaving me suddenly empty and somewhat confused.
At the same time, he released my breast from his lips and made a light trail down the center of my body, stopping at my navel. My fingers moved from his shoulder to his hair, and I let the wonderfully soft strands glide between my fingers. Branford’s gaze tilted upwards, looking at me, smiling his half smile, and making my stomach clench inside. While his eyes were still locked with mine, he reached out with his tongue and ran the edge of it around my navel, and I shivered. Branford grinned, kissed the skin just below the little indentation, then started moving farther down. Much farther down.
“What are you doing?” I breathed, my eyes wide.
“Kissing you,” he responded with an arch of his brow. He tilted his head and kissed first one hipbone, then the other. He slid his hand down my side, over my hip, down my leg, and then curled around my knee. He lifted my leg, laying it over his shoulder while he continued to watch my face. As his intent became clearer to me, my breath caught in my throat, and I whimpered.